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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24455557">If I believe in you (would you love me too?)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicePlaceToBe/pseuds/NicePlaceToBe'>NicePlaceToBe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Kinda, Love Letters, What Do I Even Tag For This, Why do I do this, bit of angst, i guess it's a little introspective?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:13:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,520</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24455557</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicePlaceToBe/pseuds/NicePlaceToBe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Five left, Vanya didn’t know what she believed in.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Number Five | The Boy &amp; Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>If I believe in you (would you love me too?)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*Gestures to this flaming garbage can of a fic* You're welcome?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vanya didn’t really know what she believed in.</p><p> </p><p>If there was a God, he didn’t seem to be trying to stop anyone from destroying everything- though she doesn’t really know what there is that can be salvaged from the ruins at this point. Her faith in truth, justice, peace- it was hard to believe the big ideas, the big lies we all tell ourselves when it was so hard to see it in the world. In the end, it was so much harder to see it than not- because you can’t see truth.</p><p> </p><p>You can see peace in a soldier finally coming home from a war that was never his and justice in people receiving what they deserve. But how much peace is there to be found when it is more an agreement of mutual sacrifice, how much justice is there in a system which takes years and so often life simply doesn’t deal the cards back?</p><p> </p><p>For Vanya, her father was a prime example- all the things he had done to them, the seven lives he had ruined beyond repair and he was yet to face consequences. Perhaps the only blow Reginald Hargreeves would be dealt is the finality about dying alone- and yet what vengeance is so briefly lived?</p><p> </p><p>It was a question she had been considering almost her whole life; what did Vanya believe in?</p><p> </p><p>When Five disappeared, for a while it had been nothing. The stern admonishments of her father held no weight, the sliding gazes of her siblings meant nothing. Music had been empty; everything had been.</p><p> </p><p>Before laughter and shared glances and determined green eyes and stubborn shoulders and then a sudden emptiness because he was <em>gone-</em> before.... <em>everything, </em>Vanya hadn’t ever really wondered.</p><p> </p><p>And then, it was all she could think about. Her blind loyalty was shattered, and she relearnt faith in degrees- to find it in the small joys afforded to her in the Academy,when Five was gone.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It was in Five's room that she found the books. </p><p> </p><p>It was a few weeks after he had gone, when his door was cracked open just a little, that Vanya forgot he wasn't there and was half through the doorway before she realised. Looking around the room to see it empty made the breath leave her lungs and tears to thicken her throat. Vanya spun to go when she knocked over one of the stacks of tomes he kept lying around- Five never did like cleaning up after himself and the floor of his bedroom could barely be seen.</p><p> </p><p>Still, automatically she bent over to pick them up as she read the titles, idly flicking through the pages. There were ones she hadn’t read, ones she had always longed to but couldn’t ask for. Five always used to let her take books from his room, so maybe it wasn't that much of a surprise that she left his room with her arms full of books. </p><p> </p><p>There was comfort in the words- first to just read them and be lost in imaginary worlds. And then, somehow, she found herself scribbling on the back of her music, in the margins of homework Grace never remarked on. It made the ache lessen, the feeling of not being able to breathe ease, the clawing desperation to <em>make someone understand </em>quieten. They held a power, to give a voice to all the feelings that fought to make themselves known before she drowned them out.</p><p> </p><p>Words were beautiful, words were magical; they healed and hurt and were hers for the taking.</p><p> </p><p>(Vanya had never had anything that was hers before.)</p><p> </p><p>Vanya believed in words.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It was in Five’s room again that she discovered the next thing she believed in.</p><p> </p><p>It had been a few months since he had stormed out. She still left the lights on. No one ever came.</p><p> </p><p>The surfaces were gathering dust, his equations slightly faded on the walls. She could sit on his bed now- Vanya no longer felt the stab of pain quite so sharply that she shed tears as she came in. (Those tears were saved for late at night to be absorbed in her pillow, so she could imagine it had only been a dream).</p><p> </p><p>It was with a start that she realised time had changed her feelings. She would notice how time flowed on; how some moments were ones we wanted to savour but we could never catch them; how time made things grow and die and live and how we run our lives by it, but that need not be a horrible thing.</p><p> </p><p>She would notice all that in due time. But then, just sitting in his room- missing him with an ache in her heart but not to the point of sickness- Vanya found some peace.</p><p> </p><p>Vanya believed in time.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it was no surprise that the next thing Vanya found faith in was Five. It had always been him; he had always been so different to her in all the best ways. Her faith in him was not a sudden realisation or big moment.</p><p> </p><p>It was a quiet understanding she had always had- that Five was consistent. He was steady. Five was someone to trust, and someone she could believe in. Five was stubborn and brilliant and burned brighter than anything she had ever seen, and he didn't let go of things, ever; he wouldn't let go of <em>her. </em></p><p> </p><p>When he disappeared, she forgot to believe in him, but she learnt again. He would come home to her, somehow.</p><p> </p><p>Vanya believed in Five.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>So many years had passed since Five and Vanya had been strangers under the same roof and then everything changed when they became friends and then everything changed again when he was gone. Vanya learnt to keep finding things to believe in- the hope of the little girls she taught, wonder at how the world can be so vast and different; the memory of all those people who lived so long ago and yet we still are curious; how incredibly lucky we are to be in a universe where flowers bloom so bright and laughter can be so free. </p><p> </p><p>Not every day was a good one. Sometimes, Vanya felt like she was living underwater, or in perpetual winter. Some days, the sadness hit a little closer to home, and Vanya would feel as if she were in grieving for the life she never got to see Five have- maybe the life they could have shared. And so sometimes, she needed to remember where she could put all her belief.</p><p> </p><p>After a day of long practice, no lunch and rude co-workers, Vanya struggled to have faith in the inherent goodness of everything. She could feel the loneliness more acutely than ever coming back to an empty apartment, and the world seemed to be painted in various shades of grey. Vanya was just so tired of feeling everything, of feeling nothing, of not knowing what she meant and wishing there was something to pull her out of this world weariness. </p><p> </p><p>So she fell back onto the things she knew she could trust.</p><p> </p><p>Words had been Vanya's crutch, to help her understand herself and get away from when everything felt like too much to bear. Time healed most wounds- or at least dulled the pain- and it had always fascinated Vanya, ever since Five himself was lost in time; she wondered what would have happened if their timing had been just a little different. And Five had always been Vanya's biggest regret and her only 'what if'. </p><p> </p><p>So she wrote- about time, about Five- on the piece of paper closest to hand, to let it all out before she went to sleep to do it all again.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, it seemed while Vanya had outgrown the skirts and fringe of the Academy, it seemed like the habit she had of writing on the back of music was not limited to her Umbrella Academy days. When she rose the next day, it was much to her chagrin that she found she had accidentally defaced her score, <em>again. </em>She didn't have time for second guessing or waiting though- otherwise she was going to be late. </p><p> </p><p>Hurrying through the streets, trying to return the music back to the right slot in her folder, Vanya bumped into an elderly gentleman. Her apologies were waved away with a sharp hand movement and he was surprisingly nimble as he leaned down and gathered all the other music she had sent falling to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Vanya bent down and gathered the pieces of paper as well, still trying to stammer out a “sorry” when he pushed the folder into her hands gently, giving her a stern look. She fell silent- the sharp lines of his face, the creases of familiar expressions, the green gaze that felt so reminiscent of another she had known so long ago made her lose her words.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, the world fell silent. Everything paused and Vanya felt her chest tighten. <em>After all these years...</em></p><p> </p><p>And then, that moment was broken. The world went on.</p><p> </p><p>Cars drove past, people flowed around them, the wind blew and the babble of chatter resumed. Lights from all directions flashed, traffic lights and car headlights and reflections of the sun, Vanya blinked for a moment and then the man was gone. Lost to the tide of people, a victim to the waves of time. She was left only with a disordered folder and a mind flooded with memories.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Later, at practice, Vanya would find with a sort of morbid horror that the piece they needed, the one she had written on, was missing. She checked through once, twice, three times, but nothing. <em>She must have lost it when she bumped into that man</em>, Vanya frowned as she left to go to the toilet. </p><p> </p><p>And yet, when she returned from the bathroom, there it was.</p><p> </p><p>The paper with her loopy handwriting covering the back, just sitting on her stand.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘In how many lifetimes have I loved you? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>How many different lives, different universes, different times have I met you and known with every fibre of my being that you are the one person I would ever want to show my entire soul? In how many different times are you the one I want to come home to and share a life with? In how many different possibilities and probabilities- in how many of the inconceivably huge branches of the complicated lives we weave- in how many of these have I been in love with you? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>In the ones where I took the train rather than the bus, the ones where I picked the blue shirt instead of the grey one, the ones I wasn’t so afraid of what love meant? In the ones where I was a poet, a musician, an artist, an accountant, a baker, a queen, a student drowning in debt and working a minimum wage job, five minutes from a mental breakdown?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Were there ones where I knew all your formulas and worked alongside you, ones where I knew nothing about your mathematics but told you all my stories? What about ones where I was nothing more to you than a bland face in the mass, a peculiar encounter in a world of chaos? But what is more magical, a better description of love, than meeting someone who makes the chaos seem all the more wonderful in its infiniteness? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Could we have been that couple you see slowly edging towards each other in the office, the ones who met by chance in a 7/11 at midnight, the ones whose love story was written as a tragedy but was a love affair never to be forgot? Could we have been innocent childhood sweethearts, the flirting college kids at a party, the divorced forty-year olds working things out all the time? Could we have g</em>
  <em>rown old together, shared a home, been a family all on our own? Or in every version was the passion fleeting, the love failing, the ’spark’ not enough? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Were there any universes where I was good enough? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>In the ones where I was smart, confident, sarcastic, intuitive, understanding, patient, ambitious, religious, unreadable, seductive, confusing, faultless, brilliant, serious, undeserving, cynical, ridiculous, hopeful- </em> <em>different</em> <em>. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>In how many of my lives have I been so different that you could fathom loving me? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>(In how many was I the same but you loved me anyway?)</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>So many choices go into this one stream of consciousness we live in now. So many tiny parts all working together, rippling out to be different- if I had been born a second later, could I have been so changed that you wouldn’t recognise me? If that man down the street that you ran into had chosen to become an astronaut rather than a financial manager, would we have met any earlier, would our lives be altered beyond what we can imagine? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>So many people, so many variables, so many possibilities. It’s a miracle we are here now at all. Yet, I can’t help but wonder. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>In how many of those other lives did I marvel at your mind, how it leaps at extraordinary rates and incredible heights; how many did I admire your cutting commentary and sarcasm that made everything just a little less big; what number among those where I couldn’t tear my eyes from your face because you’re so brilliant when you’re living? Were there any that I didn’t long to know you, where I was content to be part of your periphery, when I didn’t miss your presence in my life? Where I didn’t know how you take your coffee, what side of the bed you prefer, that your handwriting is illegible, that you are a raging insomniac and work best when everyone else sleeps? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>In how many of these times has my heart leapt to see you, my feet feel like they were falling out from under me, my face heat? When I felt safe with you, when you were the only one I actually trusted, when we had friends and family and co-workers but </em> <em>you </em> <em>felt different? </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>In how many universes do I love you?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>(In how many do you love me back?)’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Vanya couldn’t believe it- had she simply missed it on her first few look throughs? How else would it be on her stand, the man certainly couldn’t have found her.</p><p> </p><p>Unless….</p><p> </p><p>But that was impossible.</p><p> </p><p>Or so she had thought. But as her eyes scanned the page, she noticed some writing at the bottom, not in her own script but one she recognised all the same. Her breath caught- he had answered her question.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>‘All of them.’</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Vanya couldn’t explain to her co-workers why she burst into sobs and laughter simultaneously, or the tearful grin that was so purely happy that it hurt to look at.</p><p> </p><p>Vanya didn’t really know what she believed in, but she knew she was right.</p><p> </p><p>Five had come home to her, so maybe it wasn’t all that hard to decide what she believed in.</p><p> </p><p>Vanya believed in love, in whatever universes it comes from. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Don't really know why I wrote this- don't really have the time to be writing anything but I needed to write something to make me feel like not all my writing is trash so... here is a humble offering written in a few hours and not proof-read? </p><p>If you made it to the end though, thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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